


In Vino (Amicitia)

by jikanet_tanaka



Category: Horizon: Zero Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Bromance, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Spoilers, cuz poor Erend is hopeless, one-sided!Erend/Aloy if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2018-12-26 05:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12052506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jikanet_tanaka/pseuds/jikanet_tanaka
Summary: '“You misunderstand me, Erend. My ascent to the throne changed nothing. You were my friend before you were the captain of my personal guard. And if the Sun had been willing, you would have become family.”'A king, a vanguardsman, and the ghost standing alongside them. Good ol' fashioned bromance between Avad and Erend, because why not? Spoilers for the Meridian questline and the end of the game!





	1. Chapter 1

Evening fell upon Meridian, a blanket of shadows now draping the city as the sun disappeared over the horizon. Avad, Sun-King of the Carja, loved this time of the day most of all, in spite of the almost blasphemous connotations behind such an admission. Whenever the solar disk would start to make its final descent, the petitioners and courtiers who would pester him throughout the day would finally make themselves scarce, giving the young monarch a gladly received moment of peace. In the hours preceding the coming of the night, Avad could finally be himself: not the earthly incarnation of a god, not the figurehead of an entire people’s religious belief… just an ordinary man, with a flesh heart thumping against his ribcage in a steady, reassuring manner.

On nights like these, Avad enjoyed eating a late supper on his balcony. The spot offered him a wide view of the distant plateaux to the north of Meridian, and so for the brief span of his dinner the king could mercifully see something other than the ruin and desolation that had been wrought upon the capital of his realm one month ago. The stone buildings erected on the mesa had survived the Shadow Carja’s assault mostly unscathed, but the poorer quarters and the docks below had suffered highly when the terrifying machines under HADES’ command had come to slaughter and main Avad’s people. A raging inferno had swept through the Maizelands, burning a part of the yearly harvest, to the distress of many. And scattered across the distance the funeral pyres still sent puffs of dark smoke toward the evening sky. Every gaze Avad took toward his beloved city was a sore reminder of all the horrors his people had endured lately.

And of course, there was this chasm ripping his heart open, in the place where a spunky, scrappy Oseram woman had once made herself a home. Ersa was dead and buried miles away from here, in the village where she had been born, but every night the sound of her screams visited Avad’s nightmares. And every morning he woke up in his bed with an acute awareness of the empty place beside him.

But Avad could not let his grief show. To the outside world, Ersa had been the captain of his personal guard, nothing more. Worse still, to his court she’d been an _Oseram_ , an uncivilized heathen who had all but wormed her way into his good graces. Even in death their stations and cultures separated them like a gaping maw. Avad’s beloved had been brutally murdered, and yet the world around him forbade him from mourning her properly, urging him to forget she had ever existed.

And so whenever he looked at his city, seeing and hearing his people mending their lives and building something anew out of the ashes of their old existences, Avad was filled with a hatred unlike anything he’d ever felt.

Avad hid this rancor under smiles and speeches about the Sun-given strength of the Carja people. But every day it built up a little more, every day it threatened to spill out. Every day his subjects came up to him as he sat on his father’s throne, asking and pleading and begging for his help—and every day Avad hated a little more how alone he would feel amidst the sea of people ganging up to him.

He was sure he would have gone mad if it wasn’t for Erend faithfully standing by his side through all of this grueling ordeal.

For this reason, Avad had thought to invite him to share his supper. Erend usually left his post around sunset, but tonight he’d stayed at the palace longer, coordinating the arrival of several new recruits who would replace those among his men who had died in the fight against the corrupted machines. The king had noted the deep purple bags that had formed below his friend’s eyes, he’d seen how pale Ersa’s brother had gotten, he’d realized how snappy and morose his new Captain of the Vanguard had grown. Just like Avad, Erend was torn between fulfilling the duties that had been put before him and throwing everything away just for a chance to devote all of his energy to grieve his sister’s passing. Still, over the past month Avad’s old war comrade had remained nothing but dutiful, in a clear contrast to the week he’d spent drunk out of his mind when Ersa had first gone missing. Avad was proud of his friend—and a little envious, to tell the truth.

Avad was ready to undertake his supper when a servant announced Erend’s arrival. The king could see the bewilderment on his friend’s face as the latter was escorted to the royal table. Avad then dismissed his servants and guards, leaving the two of them to be undisturbed.

Erend stood stiffly on his spot, frowning. “Uh, good evening, sire,” he began, scratching the back of his head. “Was there something you needed me to do?”

“What?” Avad said, rising from his chair. “Oh no, I simply thought we had some catching up to do.” He motioned to the seat across from him. “Please sit down, Erend. I had your favorite meal prepared just for you.”

Erend glanced down at the table. A plate of wild boar meat, smoked to perfection, was waiting for him. He quirked a brow before sliding in his chair, looking even more puzzled than before. “Thanks, I guess? Seriously, what’s the occasion, sire?”

Avad interlaced his hands together, suddenly uneasy. It had been two years since he’d ascended to his throne, yet it was still very surreal to hear Erend speak so formally. During the Liberation, he and Ersa had delighted in finding odd (and sometimes demeaning) nicknames for the prim, demure Carja prince Avad had been back then.

“I told the truth earlier,” the young king said. “I only wanted to spend time with you.” An awkward silence followed. Avad managed a weak little smile, pointing to the jug next to Erend’s plate. “I thought a bottle of scrappersap would go well with your meal. It was a gift from one of your ealdormen when the peace treaty between our two tribes was signed. I never found the opportunity to open it.”

"Yeah, sure," Erend said, giving a lopsided grin. “Rather you didn’t want to drink it because you think it tastes awful,”

Avad let out a chuckle. “Ah, you saw right through me. Guilty as charged.”

“So, what, you brought me here ‘cause you wanted to _drink?”_

“In part. I thought we both needed to unwind, if only for a few hours.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, huh?” Erend dragged the jug toward him, giving it a critical appraisal. “Then, let’s open this baby, shall we? We’ll see if that ealdorman’s got good taste.”

Avad forced himself to keep smiling. The times he had drunk scrappersap had left only vague, unpleasant memories. Ones that included excessive laughter on the part of Ersa. “O-Of course,” he said. “Lead the way.”

The morning after, Avad had come to a decisive conclusion: he would drink fruit wine the next time he would invite Erend over to dinner.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, and Erend was heading for the king’s lavish rooms yet again, dragging his steps behind.

Avad had enthusiastically suggested that they spend at least one evening together every week in order to swap stories over a drink or two. Usually, that sort of things would be right up Erend’s alley—hell, what kind of Oseram warrior would he be if he _wasn’t?_ —but lately other concerns had been on his mind.

Namely, the fact that Avad’s simple demand could be all that it would take for Erend to stumble over the edge and become something he utterly despised.

When he’d been young and dumb and impressionable (okay, he was still kinda the latter two, to tell the truth), Erend had sworn to his sister that he would never develop the loathsome habit that had plagued so much of their father’s life. After all, their old man’s drinking problem had been the insidious poison that had all but destroyed the cohesion of their clan, leaving the two siblings as pariahs in their own family for much of their childhoods. Back then, Ersa had smiled at her little brother’s earnestness, saying she wholeheartedly believed in him.

She had been unusually naïve on that point. Because the moment she’d been ripped out of his life, Erend had drunk himself to a stupor rather than pick up the slack as was expected of him.

It was with this downcast train of thoughts running through his head that Erend joined the king at his table.

Avad had already uncorked a bottle of fruit wine, and he greeted Erend with a wide smile, swaying slightly in his seat. Erend slumped down in the other chair, sighing.

“You look tired, my friend,” Avad began. “Perhaps I overwork you.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Erend replied. He looked at Avad with raised brows as the latter pushed a mug toward him. It was filled with a frothy beverage that could only be Mainspring-brewed mead. Erend’s lips curled into an indolent grin. “So, no scrappersap for you tonight, sire?”

“Sun in heavens, no! I would not have a repeat of last week’s mishap.”

Erend rolled his eyes. “I’ve done worse things while sober.”

“But I’ve ruined that poor carpet,” Avad said. “I think it was commissioned by my great-grandfather.”

“Yeah, well, all things considered, it was to be expected. Didn’t think you would start chugging all that booze, heh.”

Avad pinched his mouth, all but ignoring the hint of praise in Erend’s tone. “Such a beautiful work of artisanship too. What a pity. At least dear Itamen does not know his elder brother has made such a fool of himself. Nasadi would never let me hear the end of it otherwise.”

“C’mon, it was an accident, stop worrying so much.” Erend brought the mug to his lips. Oddly enough, he did not gulp it down in one draft, as he would have in the past. Instead, he only sipped his mead carefully, as Avad filled his own cup with more wine.

“On that part, I’ll follow your wise advice, I think,” said the king.

“Wise, huh? Not a word that’s usually associated with me.”

His comment made Avad’s smile return. “You sell yourself too short, my friend.” After a moment, he added, “If you want anything, then just ask. You’ve been working so hard lately. You deserve every moment of rest you can get.”

Erend peered at Avad from over his mug, his thick brows furrowing. The king had always been a friendly sort, but even for him that kind of self-effaced amiability was a bit unusual. After he’d been crowned, Avad had distanced himself from his war buddies, turning their previous camaraderie into a professional relationship of sorts. Erend had taken in stride, understanding perfectly well that the new ruler of the Carja Sundown could not be caught fraternizing with Oseram rabble.

“Hey, I won’t disagree here,” Erend answered. He put his drink aside for a moment, finally asking, “So, any reason why you’d want to waste any of your precious time on a lunkhead like me? I mean, you see my ugly mug every time you’re holding court. Why aren’t you tired of me yet?”

“What?” Avad said, blinking guilelessly. “Why would you think that? I told you, I want to spend time with you because you’re my friend.”

 _Oh boy_ , Erend thought. That was rather candid, for someone who spent his days navigating his way into the nest of vipers that was the Carja royal court. _Maybe it’s just the wine going to his head again_. It was the most sensible explanation. “Yeah, well, you’re my boss first, remember?”

Avad shook his head. “You misunderstand me, Erend. My ascent to the throne changed nothing. You were my friend before you were the captain of my personal guard.” The king sighed, sinking back into his chair. “And if the Sun had been willing, you would have become family.”

Erend was suddenly thankful he had not drunk a mouthful of mead prior to the king’s admission; he was sure he would have spat it out right now. “W-What?”

“Your sister. I… I would have married her, if I had been able.”

“Fire and spit…” The mention of Ersa was like a cold hand squeezing his heart; still, Erend could feel a humorless smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “I coulda been the Sun-King’s brother-in-law. My nieces and nephews coulda been mini half-gods.”

Avad paled. “Don’t say that. I can’t believe you would put any faith in that nonsense about me being a descendant of the Sun. I’m flesh and blood, same as you are.” After a while, he muttered half to himself, “My father bled plenty when I stabbed him.”

Erend winced, remembering the pathetic end of the thirteenth king of the Carja. The guy’s corpse had stank of fear, piss and blood, shattering any semblance of godhood. “I know that. I’m Oseram, we don’t believe in that load of bull.”

“And I thank you for it. As least, someone has to treat me like the human I am. Your sister did, at least.”

Erend looked away from Avad, his head filling with an unpleasant buzz that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “That must have been one of the reasons why you kept her around.”

“Well, I hope that it was a _choice_ of hers to stay,” Avad said. “I’d hate to think she remained by my side only because she felt trapped by circumstances.”

“She would have left if that’s what she’d wanted,” Erend replied with a shrug. He did not want to talk about his sister, not truly, but the words seemed to spill out of him of their own accord. “That’s what happened back home, you know? Being treated like a second-rate citizen because she wasn’t born with the right, uh, _equipment_ was something of a sore spot for her, as you can imagine. So she took off with me as soon as she could to join a group of freebooters.” Erend scoffed. “Soon, she was leading one of the best mercenary band around, and yet according to tradition she wasn’t allowed to own propriety or work at the forge. No wonder she was so cranky all the time…”

“I wonder why our two cultures chose to treat women in such a manner,” Avad mused. “The Nora and the Banuk obviously do not share our ideas when it comes to gender roles. Perhaps they are right on that point.”

“Probably,” Erend said. “The ealdormen back home at the Claim wouldn’t know what to think of someone like that Nora War Chief, for one. Lady’s fierce enough to bring down a Deathbringer with her bare hands, I’d say.”

Avad gave a little chuckle before finishing his cup. “It’s their loss.” He poured himself another drink, raising it in a toast. “To all those wonderful ladies without whom we would not be here tonight.” Two names in particular seemed to hang unspoken in the air. Still, Erend knew who the king had meant. “To strong women.”

Erend mimicked his gesture, lifting his half-empty mug in the air. “Yeah. To strong women.”


	2. Chapter 2

And so a peculiar tradition was born.

Once in a week, Erend would join Avad for a drink; they would spend the evening talking (or more accurately, _complaining_ ) about their respective struggles, and for one brief moment, they would not be the Sun-King and his Captain of the Vanguard, but simply two old comrades exchanging tales, as they had been not so long ago.

Or at least, that’s what Avad hoped. More often than not, he would be the one to chatter animatedly, emboldened by the wine, while Erend would sit and stare, eyes glazed over, only giving an occasional grunt to show he was following the conversation. It gave Avad a strange, fluttery feeling to the pit of his stomach. Once upon a time, he’d been the one to listen as his older brother Kadaman lost himself in drunken ramblings. It seemed like a lifetime ago to Avad. Kadaman was dead now, and his ashes were buried next to the remains of the madman who had murdered him, in the royal crypts. And in time Avad would join them, spending his eternal rest alongside the brother he’d failed and the father he’d killed. It was a disquieting, chill-inducing prospect.

The young king never said a word of it, however. After all, the earthly incarnation of the Sun God could not show a weakness as human as fear. Besides, the only person he could have confided in without feeling the sting of shame was also cold in her grave.

Avad twirled his glass of wine, silently musing over this topic as he watched the red liquid swirling within. Sitting across from him, Erend yawned.

“Am I boring you?” Avad said, his tone light despite the dark thoughts currently cloying his brain. “I can shut up, if that’s what you want.”

“Eh.” Erend was idly tracing circles on the table with one finger. He’d brought his own bottle of ale this time, but he had barely touched it. “I just have a headache, is all. I don’t mind listening. You need to vent, I get it. I wouldn’t wish your job even on my worst enemy.”

“Most people would kill to be in my place,” Avad said, bemused. The royal court under his father had been especially bloody, with at least one murder happening every month or so.

“Most people are idiots, then,” replied Erend. “I’ve already got enough trouble trying to babysit my guys. I dunno what I’d do if I had an entire tribe looking up to me for guidance.”

“I’m learning as I go, so to speak,” Avad said. “I was not trained for this position, after all. It was expected of me to join the military. Or the priesthood.”

He did need to say that both plans had fallen through even before his father had died. In the years preceding the rebellion, Avad had been a scrawny thing who had been incapable of harming even the most insignificant of creatures. He would have fared better as a priest, but Sun-King Jiran had been incensed at the idea of allowing one of his blood to take such a subservient role. _We of the Radiant Line are not meant to become servants, even to the Sun himself_ , he’d told his son, voice shaking with anger. _I won’t let you become a further disgrace to my person._ The old man had then leaned forward from his throne, baring his teeth. _I’d sooner kill you rather than see you on your knees, praying for the unworthy and the weak._

“Oh, yeah. You were the spare son, weren’t you?” Erend’s voice took Avad out of these unpleasant memories.

The bluntness of the statement struck Avad like the point of an arrow. The king swallowed a mouthful of wine and said, rather acridly, “Yes. I was supposed to stay out of the line of succession unless something happened to my brother or any heir he might have begotten. He was the golden child, while I…” He let out a little noise of irritation and fell silent.

 _I was the meek scholar who presumed to understand the plight of the slaves serving me_ , Avad thought. _I was the weakling who was powerless to do anything when my father gave my brother to the flames. I was—I_ am _the coward who won his throne while hiding behind the backs of stronger, better people._

“Huh,” said Erend, almost as he could read Avad’s mind. “I guess we’re more alike than I thought, then.”

Avad frowned as he took the bottle of fruit wine in hand. “Why?” he said a little forcefully as he tipped the mouth toward his cup. “Because we’ve both lost a sibling?”

Erend’s features twisted in a sneer. “Nah. Because no matter how hard we try, we can’t measure up to ‘em.”

* * *

Sometimes, thankfully, the topics they chose were light and inconsequential.

Tonight, Erend had gone on a rant about the impracticality of Carja fashion. The king, drunker than usual, had been unable to mount a suitable argument to defend his people’s penchant for feathers and silks. It all had somehow ended with Erend wearing Avad’s headdress and preening like a proud rooster, and the latter all but _giggling_ behind his cup of wine.

“Forges of hell, how can you stand wearing this all day?” Erend said, words slightly slurring—mostly due to fatigue rather than the booze, funnily enough. “Don’t tell me it’s for the purpose of esthetics, either. It’s uglier than a Scrapper’s backside!”

“It’s expected of me,” Avad replied between snickers. “But to tell the truth, I’d sooner chuck it out of an open window.”

“Where it would probably kill any poor bastard who’d be unlucky enough to pass below,” Erend said. “Thing’s pointy. And surprisingly heavy.”

Avad laughed again. “Then, I’ll keep it safe with me, where it can’t harm a soul. Perhaps I should ask for a new crown to be made. Something more practical, something less… ostentatious.”

“Heh. Something _Oseram_ , you mean.”

“Perhaps. The idea has some merit. After all, many Oseram live in the Sundown now. I am their king as well, as ludicrous it may sound to many in my court.”

Erend stopped pacing, slumping down in his chair once more. “I dunno. Sounds like a plan to breed more resentment from all the blue-blooded parasites hanging around you. A Carja king, wearing an Oseram-styled crown.” He smirked. “It’d be as ridiculous as a Vanguardsman wearing Carja silks.”

Avad made a strange face, almost as if he was trying to keep himself from laughing. “I’ve seen an Oseram warrior in Carja silks. Many times, in fact.”

Erend was about to deliver a snarky retort when the realization dawned on him. He stared at Avad, mouth opening with indignation and horror. “N-No way! You put my sister in a dress? For what, your own sick pleasure?!”

“No, no!” protested Avad. “She… well, it was something she wanted. I think she tried to keep it from you and the rest of the Vanguard so you would not laugh at her. So you would not think her weak for indulging in her feminine side.”

Such a tidbit of information would have been amusing to know a lifetime ago. Now, Erend found he had nothing to say. _Another thing to add to the little pile of secrets Ersa kept from stupid ol’ me_ , the bitter thought came unbidden.

“But I always thought she was as lovely in Carja silks as in Oseram steel,” Avad added. “Of course, she never believed me whenever I told her so.”

A dazed little look softened the king’s features; he was probably losing himself in pleasant reminiscences. Erend rubbed the bridge of his nose, groaning. How had he never connected the dots before Ersa’s death? In hindsight, it was all so very obvious. When Ersa had welcomed a disheveled and weary-looking Avad in their hometown in the Claim, the Carja prince had kept staring at Erend’s sister like she’d hung the damn moon in the sky. After being crowned, Avad had learned to better control his face (the king was damned good at cards, Erend was disgusted to admit), but there had been enough times where he’d let his guard down and allowed his true feelings to peek through.

Erend snorted, re-adjusting the elaborate crown on his head in a manner he supposed was dignified. “Girls are always prettier in Oseram steel.”

“…or in Nora garb?” Avad supplied.

“What’s that s’pose to mean?” Erend said, giving the king a mock scowl. Still, soon afterward, he managed a laugh. “We’re pathetic, the pair of us.”

“Ersa would be laughing at us,” Avad mused. “And so would Aloy, I think.”

It was the opening Erend had been looking for. Yes, it would be much easier to talk about Aloy than think of the ghost standing alongside them right now. “Yeah, her too. You should have seen her when we first met. I pretty much said to her face I could take her in a fight because of my armor. She looked at me like I’d said the sun rose at night.”

“Oh, Erend.” Avad smiled, shaking his head. “You poor fool…”

“Yep.” Erend looked at the inside of his mug; he was a bit surprised by how full it still was. “I said she was out of luck, to be stuck living in the middle of nowhere. I can’t believe she didn’t slug me right there. I know I would have, in her place.”

“And to think I had sent you there to act as my personal representative! Erend, what would your sister have said?”

Erend’s grin turned ugly. He knew it was childish, but all he could hear in Avad’s soft reproach was how he failed to follow Ersa’s example. “I dunno. Can’t ask her now, can I?”

Avad looked like Erend had just punched him in the gut. The king averted his eyes, seemingly at a loss for words. For a moment, Erend itched to leave his seat and get away as far as he could from anything that could remind him of his sister—and in particular, from the poor man currently sitting across from him. But something told him it would not lessen the pain of the gaping wound that had been left when Ersa had been torn from his life. It would not make his hands stop from shaking or his stomach from being so queasy. So instead Erend stayed put, pushing the mug away from him.

“Let’s find another subject, then,” Avad said. “We could discuss the differences between our two cultures, for example.”

Erend passed both hands on his face, groaning again. “Oh boy. Really? That’s what you want to talk about over a pint?”

“Of course.” The king appeared genuinely puzzled by Erend’s lacking enthusiasm. “Deep in my heart I am still but a scholar who is eager to learn more about the world. Let’s start with you. Is there anything about my people that you find odd or amusing, my friend?”

“Only one thing? I could draw a whole list, y’know…” Erend then continued, scrunching up his face in genuine bewilderment, “First off, you people have the weirdest hair. Why do your women wear it so long? Why d’you always have those absurd headdresses? And what about facial hair, huh? Why can’t anyone grow a mustache worth a damn?”

“Oh, it’s true!” said Avad. “I had never realized before, but you Oseram all wear your hair short, even the women.”

“Of course! S’more practical that way. Wouldn’t want your hair to catch fire while you’re working at the forge, right?”

“Indeed. Although I do take offense on your last point. At least my face doesn’t look like the rear end of some unfortunate beast...”

“What?!” Erend tugged on his whiskers, grinning ferociously. “Oh, now _that_ was below the belt. You can’t say that kind of things about a man’s facial hair, you just can’t!”

The king poured himself more fruit wine, eyes glistening with good humor. “Let’s just agree to disagree. I would never have the patience to trim my beard in the Oseram manner.”

“Truce accepted,” Erend said. “So, it’s your turn, then? To ask about Oseram culture or whatever?”

“Why, yes! I could spend a whole day just asking you questions.”

Erend slouched in his chair, the headdress now a little crooked on his skull. “Great,” he mumbled. “Like, what kind of questions?”

Avad emptied his cup, before asking with a tad too much enthusiasm. “Well, many kinds! For one, what sort of religious beliefs do the Oseram have? How did your peculiar structure of power come to be? What about patronyms? What—”

“Patro-what?” Erend interrupted him. He had barely touched his drink, but he could feel a headache rearing its ugly mug.

“Family names,” Avad explained. “Only the members of some select families have patronyms in Carja culture. These few make up the bulk of the nobility in Meridian.”

“Oh, that.” Erend waved a hand around. “It’s easy. People call you by your dad’s name or by your profession. Outside of the Claim, we mostly use the latter. When you live away from your clan, it’s not so important who’s the son of who.”

“Is that why you go by Erend Vanguardsman instead of Erend Viksson?”

A sour, nasty taste seemed to fill Erend’s mouth. “Yeah. Among other things.”

The morning he and Ersa had left their village to join a band of freebooters, Erend’s sister had gone right in the heart of town, loudly declaiming to anyone who would listen that she would renounce Vik Erlendursson as her father unless the latter could beat her in a fair fight. She’d picked the perfect day to pull her stunt; their father, more hungover than usual after a particularly disastrous binge the prior evening, had stumbled out of the family home, shrieking that he would split her head open. Under the eyes of everyone in the clan, Ersa had knocked their old man into the dirt before he could even blink. She’d been scarcely twenty then, and Erend had been a kid of sixteen, with the barest of fuzz on his chin.

“Mhm,” was Avad’s somber reply. “I bet Ersa didn’t want to be called Viksdaughter either...”

 _Stop bringing her up!_ Erend almost wanted to scream. Instead, he only said, “Yeah.”

“What about clan names?” Avad said, in a clear bid to change topics.

The attempt was so blatant it managed to draw out a snicker from Erend. “We got those, but we don’t tell ‘em to outsiders. Sorry, rules are rules.”

“That’s odd,” Avad replied, frowning. “I wasn’t aware of such a custom.”

Erend scoffed. “For a guy who deals in politics all day, you sure are naïve. Nah, Your Luminosity, I was just pulling your leg.”

Avad’s face split into a wide grin. Erend could only stare at him and blink, unsure of what could have brought such a sudden change in the king’s demeanor. His gaze then flicked over to the mug in his hands. Erend’s frown eased slightly as he realized what must have been the truth. Guy was drunk off his ass, it was evident.

As on cue, Avad began to laugh softly, for no apparent reason. Erend shook his head, chuckling as well. Oh, well. At least the king was a funny drunk. Still, a strange sense of foreboding crept up to Erend as he left the king’s table, leaving him unusually worried as he took off to his home later that night.


	3. Chapter 3

Holding court today had turned out to be a nightmare.

The destruction of the two elevators connecting the main mesa of Meridian to the village below had slowed the reconstruction effort considerably. The townsmen living in the harbor and the farmlands were starting to go low on supplies, and the scarcity of drinking water had caused a sickness to spread through their midst. Prices had hiked up since the Eclipse’s attack on the capital, keeping all but the lucky few of the elite in a tight chokehold. Avad had argued and argued with the representatives of the merchant’s guilds, but they had been inflexible, quoting the difficulty of acquiring goods in the chaos that had raged over the past months.

Usually, Avad had little patience for that sort of reasoning, and today… well, today, their slimy posturing had finally tipped him over the edge.

It had all started when an argument erupted between his members of his council and the heads of the guild. At first, Avad had remained quiet in the face of the merchants’ blatant dishonesty, drumming his fingers on the exquisitely carved armrest of his chair. But then, before he could even process what was happening, he had found himself all but jumping from his seat, ranting and raving. All the men present in the meeting room had promptly ceased their bickering, reeling back from the violence of Avad’s outburst.

Still, that anger had been fleeting; soon, Avad’s face had gone crimson, not with fury but with shame. After dismissing the royal council, he’d scrambled back to his bedchambers, heart pounding madly in his chest. Along the way, Avad had chanced upon his little brother, the sound of his shouts having drawn Itamen out of his daily lesson. The two siblings had only exchanged the briefest of glances as Avad rushed by, stumbling on his feet in a graceless manner unbecoming for one of his station.

When he was finally alone in the safety of his room, Avad sank down in his bed, burying his face in his hands. The hint of fright he’d spied on Itamen’s features was familiar to Avad, disturbingly so. It brought to mind another little boy who had often found himself facing an older relative’s sudden and inexplicable bouts of rage. Avad inhaled and exhaled deeply to will those memories away. To no avail; his brain had turned into a jangled mess, thoughts spinning and spinning. Once again, it seemed as if Avad was caught in a rising tide, one that threatened to drag him to dark, unknown depths. Despite all of his efforts, his breathing grew ragged. His hands were shaking, his head seemed ready to split open, his mouth had gone dry, so _dry_ —

In-between his fingers, Avad suddenly spied an unopened bottle of fruit wine on a small table by the window. His stomach lurched as he lifted himself off the bed, staggering forward. He took one, two, even three steps toward his quarry. Soon, the bottle was nearly within reach. Still, for a reason Avad could not name, he came to a halt. With stiff, mechanical movements, he turned on his heel, his legs instead bringing him to the door, almost out of their own accord. The guard posted outside his room could not hide his frown as he noticed the king clumsily approaching him. Still, Avad managed to muster a bit of his usual dignity back as he addressed the man, asking him to seek Erend.

Avad was sitting by the table, contemplating the empty cup in his hands, when his friend arrived. The king greeted him with a wavering smile, but Erend only furrowed his brows in response.

“What happened?” were the first words that came out of his mouth. “I came as fast as I could.”

“Nothing happened,” answered Avad. “I merely wished to take a break. I figured you would have felt the same.”

Erend’s frown remained stuck into place. “No, actually, I’m good. It’s the middle of the afternoon, I’ve got a ton of things that need to be done. Beg your pardon, sire, but I think—”

“Please, sit down, Erend,” Avad said, motioning to the seat across from him. With a satisfying little _‘pop!’_ the bottle in his hands was uncorked.  “I didn’t think to find a bottle of mead for you, but I can ask for one to be fetched if that’s what you prefer.”

Erend did not answer as he sat down. Avad filled up a glass for his friend, then pushed it toward him. Erend took a brief, cautious glance to the cup before gingerly taking it in his hand.

Avad let out an awkward chuckle. “I’m sorry, my friend, you must think that I’ve gone irrevocably over the edge of madness. I assure you, I’m still completely sane.”

“S’okay,” Erend finally answered. “I would have understood if you’d gone bonkers. It’s just… I’ve been hearing things about the meeting earlier this afternoon and…”

“Oh, that.” Avad waved a hand around, feigning indifference. “That was nothing important. I fear I am simply tired. I need more rest, I think.”

That was a bold lie, in fact. For the past few days, Avad’s nights had been steadily improving. A cup of wine was now all he needed to tip him to a welcome state of dreamless sleep. Well, most of the time. On some evenings, two were necessary. Or even three. Avad didn’t think to keep count.

Erend nodded. “Alright. If that’s what you say.” He grinned and spun his glass of wine a bit, squinting at the red liquid as it twirled in his cup. “Still, better not make it a habit to summon me to your chambers on a whim. People might start to talk, y’know?”

Avad pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, let them. There will always be unfounded rumors about me. I’m the biggest target for gossip in the entire Sundown. A staggering amount of my courtiers would just love to learn all the juicy details of my personal life.”

“Ugh.” Erend made a face. “Not looking to offend, but I don’t really want people to think that we’re, uh…”

“They would wildly inaccurate,” Avad replied with a snort. “Usually, I do not go for partners who are so… _hairy_.”

Erend’s mouth twisted into a mock scowl. “Again with that? Well, I wouldn’t call you a catch myself, Your _Radiantship_. You’re not exactly the pinnacle of handsomeness in Oseram terms.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“I dunno,” replied Erend. “Someone who looks like they know their way around a workshop or a battlefield, I guess? The perfect craftsman and warrior. Someone who’s got _ideas_ , y’know, and who’s got the skills and the guts to make something out of ‘em.”

For some reason, a chill crawled down Avad’s spine at Erend’s words. _Someone like Dervahl, then,_ came the unwelcome thought. Before he’d chosen to throw all sensible thoughts out the window, Ersa’s murderer had been admired—no, _loved_ —throughout the clans for his fighting prowess and razor-sharp mind. Erend used to say the guy had been on a one-way track to becoming an ealdorman, the highest and most respected position an Oseram could achieve. And yet Ersa had preferred a Carja prince with a fondness for musty scrolls and the gentle hands of a harpist. Dervahl had taken it badly, to put it in mild terms.

 _Damn him to hell_ , Avad thought, spite rising to his mouth like bile.

Thankfully, Erend did not seem to notice the dark thoughts brewing within Avad’s mind. “So, yeah, long story short,” the Vanguardsman said, “you’re absolutely not my type. Sorry, boss.”

In spite of the nausea still gripping him, Avad felt a slight smile teasing his lips. “Oho. I know what your type is, my friend. And I must say I wholeheartedly agree with your tastes.”

Erend made a face. “ _No_. I don’t want to hear anything about your damn tastes. That’s still my sister you’re talking about.”

“Fair enough!” Avad said, laughing. He was surprised, gladdened even, by the sound as it left his mouth. Slowly, the tensions in his shoulders eased up and the knots that had been forming in the bottom of his gut untangled themselves. The hateful sight of Dervahl’s face receded to the back of his mind while Avad sipped his wine, relishing in its warmth as it descended down his throat.

In contrast, Erend’s expression had darkened, and he peered down at his drink with something that resembled disgust showing in his blue-grey eyes. Avad was startled to find that his friend’s hands seemed to tremble ever so slightly. Still, the moment Erend noticed the king’s scrutiny, he stiffened in his chair, and his hands stopped shaking. Avad looked away, not knowing what to make of such a sight. Had he only imagined it?

After a while, a tight smile emerged on Erend’s features. Avad sighed in relief. He probably had just imagined it. If something was troubling Erend, he would definitely tell Avad… would he?

“Ugh,” Erend said, thankfully cutting short Avad’s musings, “can’t believe I’m having this kind of conversation with the damn physical incarnation of the Sun’s will. What would the rest of your court think if they knew you have base, _vile_ needs like the rest of us lowly humans?”

“They’d be delighted, as I told you before,” Avad said dryly. “Most of them would love an opportunity to drag me off my pedestal.” There were days where Avad would let them, in truth. But he would not risk the pandemonium that would be sure to follow. He owed that mercy to his people, at least.

Still, perhaps one day Avad would muster the strength required to shatter the distasteful delusion that maintained him on the throne. Perhaps one day his people would not need to suffer the whims of a painfully average man who’d been propelled to near godhood due to the simple fluke of being born as his father’s son.

Avad stared at the now empty glass in his hand, stomach twisting once more as the sounds and images of his earlier outburst floated back to his mind. Before the now achingly fake smile on his face could flitter away to nothingness, he reached for the bottle of fruit wine.

Erend, thankfully, said nothing. Still, Avad could feel the heat of his friend’s gaze on him. It felt almost… _judgemental_.

* * *

The palace was starting to be abuzz with sordid rumors.

Avad’s uncharacteristic bout of rage had been but an inkling of things to come, a few courtiers worried. After all, the previous Sun-King had been charming and gracious in his youth as well, before the Derangement had set him over the slow but inexorable path of madness. The same blood flowed in Avad’s veins, some were quick to point out. Perhaps he would crumble under the pressure in the same manner as his father, plunging the sundown into yet another era of chaos and bloodshed, the nastier voices insinuated. Avad, to his credit, seemed to pay these gossipers no mind. Outwardly, at least, he appeared in complete control of his person, treating these disingenuous bits of slander with more poise than Erend could have managed.

Still, the latter could not help but worry.

True, it seemed Avad had regained some of his usual spirits; his skin showed none of the sickly pallor that had plagued him since the attack of the Eclipse, and the bruise-like bags under his eyes had mostly vanished. He was certainly a bit more scatterbrained than was customary (arriving late to his royal councils because he’d overslept was not something Avad had been accustomed to doing before all this mess), but the king remained respectful, even composed, in all of his interactions with his court. By all means, Erend should have been relieved by the fact that his boss appeared on the road to recovery.

Especially since he already had a lot of crap to deal with on his own plate right now.

Splitting headaches and sudden shaking fits had become everyday nuisances, ones that made it difficult to stay focused on the tasks at hand. Worse still, Erend couldn’t remember a time where he’d slept more than a few hours in a row without being jolted awake by some nightmare. Always he’d wake, mouth dry, teeth chattering, with images of bloodied, battered corpses seemingly etched on the back of his eyelids. More often than not, it was the sight of Ersa’s mangled body that would weave into his nightly terrors; other times it was the silently judging faces of the comrades he’d sent to their deaths during the attack on the Spire.

And, sometimes, worse of all, he’d dream of Aloy dying as Ersa did, her usually bright gold-green eyes dimming as her body went limp in his arms…

There was no news of her, even months after the battle against the Eclipse. Not long after the Nora party led by Warchief Sona had departed for the Sacred Lands, Aloy had left as well, citing some nebulous reason as to why she could not stick around. Erend had been well aware that she would not stay in Meridian; after all, it was not as if she owned anything to him or any of the other people she’d saved by defeating the being called HADES (whatever the hell it was). He was just some idiot who’d been lucky enough to bumble his way into her life; in all probabilities, their paths would possibly never even cross again. Really, it was evident she had better things to do than waste her precious time on an oaf like Erend.

No, Erend thought, frowning as he watched Avad pour himself yet another drink, he really had enough trouble to deal on his own.

Tonight, the king was babbling on, as usual. Avad was a funny drunk, alternating between boisterous cheer and brooding contemplation at the drop of a hat. Erend found his sudden mood changes a little disconcerting, but not as much as his choices of topics. It was not typical of the Oseram to philosophize about the world while being drunk off one’s ass. Clearly, the Carja thought otherwise.

“It’s disheartening that we know so little about Nora customs,” Avad was saying, unaware that Erend was tuning out half of the things that were coming out of his mouth. “Their religious beliefs are as fundamental to their culture as the cult of the Sun is to us Carja, but we know next to nothing about their core tenets.”

“Uh-huh,” Erend said, trying to ignore the migraine currently seizing his head in a vise-like grip.

“What about religious celebrations? In fact, what form of entertainment do the Nora have? They seem so serious in all manners of things.”

That did bring a half-smile out of Erend. “Yeah, that’s the impression I got too. No drunken revelry for them, no siree.”

Avad glanced down at the table. He’d already managed to empty a whole fruit wine bottle by himself. Additionally, the king had wiped his plate clean, with not even a morsel of their evening feast remaining. The whole of his Oseram Vanguard would have been proud that their ruler was capable of such an accomplishment. “Perhaps they’ve got the right idea. Excesses make us complacent in our privileges, after all.”

Erend wearily passed a hand through his beard, fighting off his fatigue. _Where the hell do that even come from…?_ It seemed he couldn’t understand half of what the king was saying.

“We should strive to be more like the Nora,” Avad concluded, waving his glass of wine around in a little dramatic flourish. He then sighed. “In fact, perhaps I should have taken the occasion to ask Aloy about her culture while she was still in Meridian. I’m sure her counsel would have helped us greatly.”

“Nah, she wouldn’t have been able to tell you anything,” Erend said. “She’s not Nora. Well, she is, but at the same time she’s not. It’s complicated.”

A flicker of Avad's usual intellect filtered through his alcohol-clouded eyes. “Oh,” he said. “She’s Outcast? I never even…” He made an irritated noise and said no more.

“Yeah,” Erend replied, surprised that Avad had put the pieces together so quickly. “She’s been an Outcast since birth. Or so I understood. It’s not exactly something I could just ask her about, y’know. Bit of a downer, as far as conversation starters go.” Erend scowled, hands clenching into fists. He’d never learned just who the hell was responsible for inflicting such a thing on her, but he knew he’d love to take a swing or two at them—preferably with his warhammer. “I figured it was a bit of a sore subject for her.”

“She was cast out at birth?” Avad said, voice thick with disgust and disbelief. “What a barbaric notion!”

“Well, all of our tribes have these wonderful, charming little quirks, haven’t they?” Erend said. “Us Oseram see women as property, you Carja used to treat my people like chattel...”

The king stilled, his gaze snapping to Erend with the intensity and the vulnerability of a prey stuck in a hunter’s path. The latter broke eye contact, slightly taken aback by the distress coming from Avad in waves. Inwardly, he cursed himself. _Good going, Erend, you jackass!_ Even sober, he couldn’t stop running his mouth like the stupid punk he was. _No wonder Aloy didn't think much of you, you useless piece of Glinthawk scrap…_

Avad gripped his cup so tightly his knuckles went white. “I… I am sorry, Erend. For everything that my people has inflicted on yours.”

“What?” Erend bounced his eyebrows lazily, hoping to diffuse the tension. “It’s not like you had anything to do with it. It’s not your fault your dad became a dick.”

“But that’s not true, isn’t it? I didn’t build the system that led to such atrocities, but I profited from it. I grew up a pampered prince because of the suffering of other people. I am complicit in the horrors that had been brought upon your tribe. And upon your family.”

For a moment, Erend found nothing to say. Not so long ago, he would have whole-heartedly agreed with Avad’s self-deprecating assessment. When Ersa had been taken in the Raids, Erend had drunk himself to sleep every night, wishing a horrible death to her Carja captors. Most of all he had wanted the Sun-King and his ilk to suffer as much as he had when they had taken away from him the only real family he had left, the one person who could ground his unstable world into a semblance of peace and calm.

But now, whenever Erend tried to imagine how it must have been, spending a childhood navigating the unpredictable and violent mood swings of someone who should have been your protector from birth—well, there was the rub, wasn’t it? Erend didn’t have to imagine it. His dad hadn’t been as insane as King Jiran, but he’d been a nasty piece of work too. Finding out that he had something in common with someone he’d once wanted dead had been a bitter pill to swallow.

“I dunno,” he finally answered. “I think it’s more complicated than that. You’re trying to make amends. That accounts for something, right? And your dad _did_ kill your brother when the guy tried to set things right. No wonder you were so afraid to go against your old man.” _It’s not like I was any braver when mine decided to put me an’ my sister through the wringer_ , Erend thought darkly. Always Ersa had borne the brunt of their father’s abuse; from birth, she had positioned herself as her little brother’s protector, keeping him away from the worse the world could throw at them. Erend inwardly let out a slew of curses. No matter how hard he tried, memories of her always slithered their way back to the forefront of his mind. Self-hatred twisted Erend’s stomach in knots as he contemplated the mug full of ale in front of him.

At the other end of the table, Avad would still not meet his gaze. The king’s posture was slackened, as if he was a puppet whose strings had just been cut.

More than anything, it was this despondent sight that pushed Erend to continue. “Aw, shit. You know I’m bad at this. You know there’s a reason why Marad’s got the job that he has, and I’m stuck swinging a big hammer around. I’m a dumb guy. I can smash things, but that’s about it. I’m no good with words.”

“You’re already helping plenty,” Avad said wearily. “You listen to me every week. I think Marad would have quit after the first time, honestly speaking.”

“He’d be appalled for sure,” Erend said. “I know I am—‘cause you’re still insisting on drinking that pisspoor fruit juice instead of something good.”

Avad managed a feeble grin before downing his drink in one go. “I’m sorry, Erend, but on that count, we’ll have to disagree.”

Erend mirrored his smile, but now he was eyeing the king critically. “By the way, how many of these did you have?”

“Hmm?” Avad was swaying a little. “Oh, I’m still not at my limit, really. I can’t say I would drink you under the table, but I’m more resilient that I look. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“If you say so,” Erend replied. “But as someone who can hold his drink better than the average idiot, I’d advise you to stop for the night. Else, you’re gonna hate the world when you’ll wake up next morning.”

Avad chuckled. “Noted. I’ll drink just enough so it can help me sleep. Though, a part of me thinks a cup or two would help me deal with all the courtiers who will come whining at me tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I getcha. I wouldn’t want to deal with a bunch of Carja nobles while sober too.”

“It’s a suggestion worth remembering, at least.” Avad gingerly waved a hand at Erend. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes were not. “Good night, Captain.”

“Good night, Your Brightness.”

Erend made for the door, only to stop and give a surreptitious glance behind him. His cheeks flushed pink, Avad hummed to himself as he filled his cup with more fruit wine.


	4. Chapter 4

It was the fifth morning in a row that Avad was late for his early meeting with his council.

Usually, that kind of thing wouldn’t have worried Erend so much. Avad was entitled to dispose of his time as he wanted. After all, he was the frickin’ _king_. Frankly, it was not Erend’s place to tell the guy just how to live his life.

Then, Erend wondered, why did the whole damn thing left him so worked up?

Maybe it was from seeing a man known for his even temper snap at every little provocation. Maybe it was from hearing incoherent ramblings from a ruler who usually shone with intelligence and poise. Maybe it was from sensing the shadow of doubt sweeping through the whole of the royal court, imprisoning Avad’s subjects in the icy grip of uncertainty.

Or maybe it was from smelling the stench of booze clinging to the king like cheap perfume.

Erend of all people had no right to turn up his nose at the guy. He was who he was, a useless lug on the mend, lost adrift because he was trying to uphold a promise he’d never made to the ghost who lived inside his brain. The king had never said a word— _never!_ —even when Erend had been at his most useless. Avad had stuck by him when everybody else had been ready to write him off as a drunken fool nowhere suitable enough to fill the late Captain’s shoes. Really, it would be pompous as shit for Erend to open his big damn mouth to give the king a piece of his mind. Avad was ten times the man he could ever hope to be.

Then, Erend thought, gnashing his teeth together at he watched the guy laugh behind his cup of wine, why did the whole damn affair leave such a bad taste in his mouth?

“Erend,” Avad said, “you haven’t touched your food at all. Is there something on your mind?”

Erend startled in his seat, abruptly pulled out of his musings. Oh, _yeah_. Avad might have been drunk, but he wasn’t stupid. Just staring at the guy like a creep without saying anything wasn’t going to help. Erend groaned, absentmindedly passing a hand through his beard; it would be so much easier forming a coherent train of thoughts if his head would just stop _hurting_ so much.

“Not hungry,” Erend said in half a grunt. “Ate not that long ago.”

Subtly, he eyed Avad’s plate. The latter had eaten very little as well. Avad tipped the neck of the fruit wine bottle toward his cup, refiling it with more alcohol. Erend scowled as he looked at his own mug of ale. He didn’t dare bring it any closer to his mouth. The smell of booze would only tighten the grip pain held over his head, that he was damn sure.

Avad continued to talk about inconsequential things throughout the evening. Erend only nibbled at his wild turkey roast, worry churning in the pit of his belly. Avad kept laughing at his own (bad) jokes, cheeks flushed by the wine. He never noticed Erend’s unease, not once.

After a while, it seemed as if the very sound of Avad’s laughter grated on Erend’s ears. Abruptly, he stood up, making the king sputter in the middle of the latest inane thing he was going on about.

“Well, I’ll be going,” Erend said. “Gotta conk out early if I wanna wake up at a reasonable hour tomorrow morning.”

“So soon?” Avad said lightly. “Truly, you’re growing to be the most responsible of the pair of us, my friend. In a while, you’ll make me look bad.”

Erend bit down an unflattering reply, only saying, “Eh, comes with the new job. G’night, sire.”

“Good night, Erend,” Avad replied with a chuckle. He downed his cup of wine, before reaching for the bottle once more.

“Don’t you think you had enough of that?” Erend said, exasperation and amusement colouring his voice in equal parts. He made to grab the fruit wine. With a rapidity that stopped Erend cold in his tracks, Avad pulled the bottle toward him, putting it out of Erend’s range. For a second or two, the latter could only stare, dumbfounded. “Hey, take it easy, Your Brightfulness, I wasn’t going to—”

Avad displayed a sham of a grin. “I was just going to pour myself another cup,” the king said, in an icy voice that featured none of his usual charm. “Only one more, and then I go to bed.”

“Seriously, Avad,” Erend pressed. “Gimme the bottle. You’ll thank me later.”

Avad only glared at him, his eyes narrowing. “I know what I’m doing, Erend. Don’t treat me like some idiot child. I can take care of myself perfectly well.”

“Oh?” Erend said, anger flaring despite all of his best judgement. “Coulda fooled me.”

“Good night, _Erend_ ,” Avad repeated, in a tone that brokered no discussion.

“Fine.” Erend turned to leave; goddammit, his head felt like it was about to _explode_. He stopped by the doorway, glancing at Avad from over his shoulder. “I won’t tell you what to do, _Your Radiance_. S’not like I know anything. I’m just some dumbass Oseram, after all. I’m no one important.”

Avad’s brow creased slightly. “Erend—”

“Good night, sire. See you tomorrow.” And with those words Erend was gone. He tried not to think too much of the distress and pity that had fleetingly shown on Avad’s face as he left.

* * *

It grew more and more difficult for Avad to keep track of time.

He often woke up in the early afternoon, adrift in a daze, remembering nothing of the evening that had come before. He would then stumble through his daily duties, trying to act as if nothing was unusual. Thankfully, all of his servants and courtiers played along with the delusion, never uttering a word of reproach as to his obvious failings as a leader.

Everyone save Erend, that is.

Oh, Avad’s oldest friend never said anything out loud, not to his face, at least. But Avad knew him well enough to see the signs. Erend had become unflinchingly, _uncharacteristically_ polite, in a way that almost made the most mannerly members of the royal court seem boorish in contrast. Yet every time Erend addressed Avad with his correct title, every time he stood by the throne without offering a snarky comment or two, every time his face remained impassible, a smile nowhere in sight, as the two of them supped together, Avad could feel his spirits plummeting toward what seemed like an endless depth.

Hours stretched into days, days stretched into weeks. The reconstruction effort picked up speed, and hope—fragile, _precious_ hope—began to spread through Meridian. To Avad’s great relief, the Sundown’s Oseram allies sent unexpected help in the form of some tinkers and stonemasons. The idea had come at Petra Forgewoman’s prodding (Avad could have kissed the woman, but something told him she would only have brushed his effusive display of gratitude with a laugh). More importantly, the workers brought along food, tools and other manner of supplies. This unexpected kindness was more than welcome, but it did nothing to assuage the sense of unease crawling under Avad’s skin. More and more he felt like a spectator detached from his own life, watching as other people accomplished what should have been his Sun-given duties as ruler of the Carja.

No wonder Erend had begun to scorn him so.

Still, the man continued to offer him the pleasure of his company, once a week during supper. Of course, Erend had now developed a fondness for gruff, stubborn silence. Avad, ever the good politician, fought to hide just how upset he was by his friend’s newfound taciturnity. Thankfully, Erend never noticed a thing—or perhaps, it was just that he knew better than to offer a snide comment or two. Avad wasn’t sure which one was the case.

And so on each of these nights, Avad talked and drank enough for the both of them. It was a weight off his shoulders to finally let go of the cool, self-assured persona he was forced to adopt in front of his subjects, at least for a few precious hours. As always Avad broached many topics throughout their evenings, all of which seemed to draw out but the barest of interest from Erend. Yet there was one thing Avad wanted to talk about above all else—the very one thing he could not bring himself to speak about, the one thing that made him go to sleep every night with a coldness enveloping his heart like an embrace.

For more than a month now, the two men had never uttered Ersa’s name—not once.

Avad often referred to her in an oblique manner, but Erend never caught on to his intention. Tentatively— _despairingly_ —Avad thought to use a tried-and-true approach to ease Erend into the subject: talking about Aloy.

Six months had passed since she’d last been seen in the Sundown, and still there was no news of her. Not long after the battle at the Spire, Avad had sent an envoy to the Nora lands, extending what he hoped was a helping hand to a people in sore need of help. To Avad’s disappointment, nothing had come out of this effort, and he had thought it best to not press the matter further.

(Or rather, that was Avad kept telling himself in the dark of his room at night, whenever the sense of guilt started to crush him. The truth was that he could not summon the energy to fulfill yet another duty that was expected of him.)

Avad sighed as he mulled over these reminders of his inadequacy. He’d managed to take just a spoonful or two out of the delicious stew the palace cooks had prepared for him and Erend. The latter, thankfully, seemed to have regained a bit of his usual appetite. Still, Erend ate in near silence, never offering more than one or two words to add to the conversation.

Avad frowned. Something else had caught his attention: Erend had not touched a drop of the scrappersap that had brought from Mainspring. That strange behaviour was starting to get unsettling.

“Erend?” Avad finally prompted. “Haven’t you heard what I asked? Have you finished the selection of potential recruits for the Vanguard?”

Erend squirmed in his seat. His gaze had become rather evasive, Avad noted. “More or less. But it’ll take some time ‘til they’re trained. And the number of guys we’ve found is nowhere near enough to—” Erend scowled, then fell silent. Avad felt a dull pang. _Nowhere near enough to replace the ones we’ve lost_ , he completed somberly. The Shadow Carja and their demonic machines had torn through the ranks of the Vanguard. With a flash of remorse, Avad suddenly understood; no wonder Erend acted so downtrodden these days.

“I’m sorry, Erend,” Avad said. “You’ve not only lost men under your command, but brothers-in-arms. Friends.”

Erend shrugged. “Yeah. Losing people. Seems like a recurring thing nowadays.”

Avad drew a sharp breath. “Erend—”

“Any news from the Nora lands?” Erend interrupted him, not too subtly.

“No,” Avad answered. He knew full well the true subject of the man’s inquiry. “And none from Aloy as well.”

Erend slumped into his chair, casting his gaze downward. Unbidden, the sight of Aloy’s face, her fierce features twisted in disgust, came to Avad’s mind. _Your warrior princess is barely cold in her grave, and you’re lining me up to take her place?_ she had spat, her words as chilly as the lands where she’d been born. The memory sent blood rushing to Avad’s cheeks. She must have thought him such a fool. Covertly, Avad chanced a peek toward Erend. It was a good thing that the man had not heard this particular exchange. There was little else Avad feared more than losing the respect of the only person in the world he could still consider a friend.

“Do you think she’ll be coming back?” Avad asked Erend, sounding contrite as a child. “Her people have suffered so much. I expect she’ll devote most of her time to them now.”

“I dunno about that,” said Erend. “They cast her out at birth, remember? And she doesn’t strike me as someone who’s looking to settle down somewhere. She didn’t seem too enthusiastic about staying here in Meridian too.”

“Oh,” was all Avad said in response. He tried not to sound too disappointed. “Poor Aloy. Wherever she is, I hope she is well.”

“Me too.” Erend’s voice dwindled to a soft mutter. “Someone close to her died during the massacre at the Proving. I think it might have been her father. She never talked about much, but you could tell it was always on her mind.”

“Sun in shadows!” Avad exclaimed. “I had no idea. Throughout all this time, she was carrying this burden? And to think I dared presume—” He shook his head, realizing he could say no more. No wonder her words had been so venomous. Avad really deserved no better.

“Yeah. S’why I felt so rotten for asking—nah, _begging_ —for her help. She clearly had better things to do.”

“Yet, she helped anyway. Without her, we would have never stopped Dervahl. Without her…” Avad cast his eyes downward, murmuring, “Without her, Ersa would have died _alone_.”

Erend said nothing. Slowly, carefully, he reached for his mug of ale.

“I… I should have seen through Dervahl’s trap,” the words stumbled out of Avad’s mouth. “Before she went to confront him, Ersa came to me. I should have told her to stay. Something was amiss, it was plain to see. I should have told her it was too dangerous…”

“Avad,” Erend said, “ _shut up_."

Erend’s words were like a blow from a warhammer, and the air was knocked out of the king’s lungs. “Erend, I-I…”

“I said shut up! If you want to whine, choose another subject. Stop talking about my sister.”

Avad’s voice strangled in his throat before he could retort. Blood thumped in his ears. _Ersa_ was all he wanted to talk about.

Because if he stopped thinking of her—hearing the sound of her laughter whenever he recited a poem he’d written for her, remembering the fierceness in her eyes when she had a weapon in hand, picturing the little dimples in her cheeks when she smiled—then she would truly cease to exist. Ersa’s mortal remains—the hallowed vessel in which her precious soul once dwelled—were now slowly rotting away in her grave in the Claim. Avad could not let her memory die as well, not when his words could still make her spirit linger on.

“Do… do you truly wish to never speak of her again?” Avad said finally, in little more than a whisper. “Are you trying to forget her? Why are you acting as if she had never existed?”

“Because it’s the only way I can function, dammit!” Erend said, slamming his mug on the table and spilling half of its content on the fancy wood. “The moment I start thinking of her, I’m done for! I can’t get my mind to settle down! Usually, I would—” He swore, loudly, instead of finishing his sentence.

And suddenly, everything became clear for Avad. His gaze came to rest on the bottle in front of him. “Usually, you would drink,” he said. “But these past months, you tried to stop drinking… didn’t you, Erend?”

Erend dropped his head slightly, hiding his expression from view. “Yeah. I tried. I did as my sister asked me.”

“…but I did not,” Avad said. “Instead, I chose to disgrace her memory. You ran from your pain, but I chose to numb it with something she profoundly hated. You were right to chastise me, Erend.”

Erend grimaced. “S’not like I had the higher ground, you know? I’m a piece of work, too.”

“No,” Avad said, “you sell yourself too short. All this time, you were suffering too… and I never stopped to think twice about it. I was too mired in my own misery...”

Erend rolled his eyes, but something soft settled on his features. “Hey, now _you’re_ the one who needs to stop beating yourself up.”

Avad managed a weak smile. “What a pair we are…”

“Yeah.” Erend grimaced, as if he was struggling to make the next words come out, “It's as you said before. Ersa would have laughed her ass off.”

“No,” Avad said, “she would have been sad. I think, more than anything, she believed in us more than we believe in ourselves.”

Erend was silent for a while. Then, voice choking, he added, “Yeah. She’d always been that way, even since we were kids. She had her own shit to deal with, but she always kept out an eye for me.”

“For me as well.” Avad hung his head low, shameful that he had decided to squander the gift of her faith in such a way. He could still taste the tartness of the alcohol on his tongue. Revulsion came over Avad in a wave of nausea, making him want to retch. For a moment, he wished for nothing but to fling the wine bottle at the wall.

Instead, Avad inhaled deeply to will himself in a state of calm. It seemed he needed all the strength in his body to put his cup down, and even more to push the bottle away. Erend watched him without a word; still, Avad could not feel the sting of his friend’s judgement, only a sense of sympathy. A strained silence followed, heavy as grief. Then, Erend sighed, rubbing his face with both hands.

“Do you,” he began hoarsely, as if he had not used his voice for years, “do you wanna talk about her? Do you think it would make you feel better?”

Avad nodded. “I… I think it would. We need to do right by her memory. Talking about her will be painful… but this pain is nothing to what she’s sacrificed to keep the two of us safe.”

Erend’s eyes shimmered in the light of the candles. Avad realized with a start that he had never seen his friend cry in the years they had known each other. Much like his sister, Erend had always put up a brave front for Avad’s sake. And never he had complained about the miserable hand life had dealt him. _No wonder he had to turn to something else for comfort_ , Avad thought, saddened.

“Yeah,” Erend said. “You’re right.” He continued, managing a lighter tone, “I mean, I still don’t get how a hellion like my sister ended up with a stick in the mud like you. I’m sure there’s a funny story or two behind your courtship of her.”

A bit of colour touched Avad’s cheeks. “Oh, you don’t know half of it, my friend.” He glanced askew, his lips twitching into a sheepish smile. He could almost picture Ersa’s indignant face in his mind as he added, tongue firmly planted in cheek, “I never told you that time when I introduced her to the previous Sunhawk, did I? It was the event that brought about her lifelong suspension from the Lodge. Before she even joined in an official capacity.”

Erend smirked. “Oh boy. Why am I not surprised?”

Avad folded his arms across his chest, pride and affection swelling in his heart. “Well, of course. Why else do you think I wanted her to become my queen?”


	5. Chapter 5

Finally, a full year after the battle at the Spire, Aloy came back.

In truth, Avad was a bit disappointed she had not stridden into the city atop a pacified Sawtooth, with the wind blowing into that fiery mane of hers as the people watched with their mouths agape. No, instead, she had been reasonable; apparently, she’d ridden to the gates of Meridian on the back of a Charger, her features long and drawn by fatigue, her hair a tangled mess. From what the city guardsmen had told Avad, she had been a far cry from the savior they had come to worship in the last few months. In a way, that did not surprise him. Despite all of her accomplishments, she was still a woman of flesh and blood, not some goddess sent by a benevolent deity looking to fix their broken world.

Thanks to Marad’s quiet efficiency, Avad had been told of her arrival the moment she had set foot outside the city walls. He was amused to find that poor Aloy had been escorted to the palace by a throng of fervent admirers, her retinue ranging from barefoot street urchins to nobles bedecked in jewels made from machine parts. She seemed grateful when Avad came up to her, palms outstretched in welcome.

(A part of him was secretly relieved she had not brought her mechanical mount inside the city. It would have certainly thinned her escort of fawning citizens; Aloy might have been beloved by Meridian, but her poor metal beast would have scared away all but the most battle-hardened of souls. Still, perhaps in a way she would have preferred that option, when Avad stopped to think about it…)

Avad opened his mouth, ready to offer Aloy a long-winded and ceremonious speech of welcome, when he noticed just how she dragged her steps along the way. She levelled to him a pair of eyes encircled by deep, dark bags, her gaze showing an earnest plea. Immediately, Avad decided to comply with her unsaid wish. The people who had followed her to the palace entrance seemed disappointed to be sent away, but for once he felt his role as a friend superseded his duties as king. Aloy’s shoulders slumped forward in obvious relief.

Avad led her back to the balcony where he usually supped, trying to strike up a conversation as they went. All he got in response was a series of monosyllabic and mumbled words. Still, Avad was a politician, one used to wrangle the truth out of the most cryptic answers. He was surprised to hear that her travels had brought her all the way north to the forbidding lands of the Cut. No wonder it had taken her so long to return to Meridian.

Erend was already waiting by the dinner table by the time Avad and Aloy arrived. He’d been busy with training recruits for the Vanguard all day, but the moment Marad had announced Aloy’s visit, Avad had sent for him, knowing that his friend would not want to miss this opportunity for all the shards in the world. Upon catching sight of Aloy, a change immediately operated in Erend. He straightened his spine, as if to look taller, schooling his features into something resembling a charming grin. It was a valiant effort on Erend’s part, at least. To Avad’s objective gaze, his friend’s expression could only be described as _dopey_.

Aloy greeted Erend by raising her hand in an awkward manner, but the latter just laughed and enveloped her in a typically Oseram bear hug, lifting her off the ground. When he put her down, she seemed a little stunned, as if a Sawtooth had just rammed into her. Avad did not even try to hide his amusement as he watched the two of them. As usual, Erend looked at Aloy like she had been the one to set the sun in the sky. Still, for the briefest of moments, uncharitable thoughts filled the king’s head.

 _Why?_ he told himself, a sense of puerile anger bubbling up in his guts. Why would other people find happiness when the brightest light in his life had been so violently extinguished? Why did he have to expect a future filled with loneliness and grief while others were teetering on the brink of something new, something filled with warmth and comfort and laughter?

Of course, a second later, and these selfish reflections were gone, replaced by a crushing sense of guilt. Avad inhaled sharply, fighting to hide the wave of self-disgust that was crashing over him. How long was he going to stay that way? How long was he going to treat any display of joy with suspicion and envy?

“Uh, boss?” a voice came, snapping Avad out of his dark musings. Erend had walked up to him, Aloy closely following from behind. “Something’s wrong?”

“No, of course not,” Avad said, mustering all of his willpower to inject a touch of amiability in his voice. “I was just lost in thoughts for a moment.” He inclined his head toward Aloy. “Having you here just reminded me of all that we still have to achieve. And of all the hard work we’ll have to do to get there. But you have not come all the way to Meridian to hear me complain, have you? Is there anything I can offer you, huntress? Perhaps something to eat?”

“Food sounds good, yes,” Aloy said.

“If there is anything specific you want for your supper, you need only ask. I will get a servant to draw a bath for you and—”

Aloy held up a hand to interrupt Avad. “I don’t want to impose, really. I’ll find an inn to stay the night. I can manage on my own.”

Avad and Erend exchanged a look, and the latter let out a bark of laughter.

“The loveliest bedchamber in the palace will be prepared for you, Aloy,” said the king. “You’ve risked so much already to keep us safe. You deserve the best my kingdom can offer.”

Aloy scrunched up her nose, but thankfully she did not protest, only saying, “Well the bath can wait. I’ve already cleaned myself in a stream on the way to Meridian. Besides, I’m sure you’ll want to hear the things I’ve got to report.”

Avad’s mouth almost dangled open with dismay. By the Sun, she was more stubborn than Ersa! “Your report can wait, but anything related to your personal wellbeing cannot. Please, Aloy. Think of yourself, for once.”

“What His Holy Holiness means,” Erend said, patting Aloy on the back, “but just won’t say ‘cause of that stick up his ass, is that he’s beside himself with worry. He can’t focus properly when his anxiety starts to act up, so I’d do what he wants, if only to stop him from making such a fuss.”

Avad sent a peeved look to Erend, mouthing ‘stick up my _what?_ ’ The latter only shrugged.

“Fine,” Aloy said. “I’ll stay at the palace if it’s what you want.”

“Great!” said Erend, the same time Avad exclaimed, “How wonderful!”

Their enthusiasm brought about a feeble smile from Aloy. A second later, and it was gone. “Well, can someone show me to my room, then?” she asked. “If I’m staying the night, then I can drop some of my stuff back there.”

“Of course,” replied Avad. “Take all the time you need to prepare. Will you join us for supper afterwards?”

“Uh, yeah,” Aloy said, a little sheepishly. She was holding her stomach, and it struck Avad that she was probably famished. “That sounds about right.”

Avad called a servant, who then escorted the Nora huntress to her quarters. An hour later, Aloy was back; her hair was damp, and she had been somehow convinced her to put on a crimson-colored silk robe rather than her usual garb. She scanned the table with cautious eyes, then sat herself next to Erend. The latter startled a little, apparently surprised by the way she had made a beeline for him. Still, a boyish grin soon brightened his features. Aloy, bless her heart, failed to notice a thing.

After the food was served, Aloy began to stuff her face as if she had not been fed a proper meal in several months. Avad watched her, amused and appalled in equal parts. Even Erend showed better table manners. He also noticed how she never touched the glass of fruit wine that had been poured for her; she had not spared a glance for it, even. Avad himself had drunk very little, while Erend had stuck to water. The king found himself smiling at this realization.

Soon, their plates were empty (not a speck of food remained in front of Aloy, Avad noted). He would have wanted to continue speaking of inconsequential things, but it seemed Aloy had other ideas. When Erend finally prompted her to talk about her travels, she went silent for a bit, her eyes darting to the side as if she was assessing just how she would respond to his question. Then, she put her utensils down and began to speak.

If that story had come from just about anyone else, Avad would have never believed a single word of it. Aloy spoke of ancient machines posing as gods and spirits, of a world consumed by a swarm of flesh-eating robots, and of a woman, Elisabet Sobek, who had given all to ensure life would survive the grave mistakes of her contemporaries. By the end of her tale, Avad and Erend were looking at her with their mouths dangling open. All of their current trouble seemed infinitely small in comparison to everything Aloy had faced. It was very sobering.

“So you seek to restore this mechanical intelligence, this… _GAIA_ … to its proper form?” Avad summed up, incredulous. “You believe you could find a way to stop the Derangement with its—with _her_ help?”

Aloy nodded gravely. “Yes. HADES became corrupted because it slipped away from her control. And the same happened with HEPHAESTUS. If we repair GAIA, then we stand a better chance to keep it from creating even more dangerous machines.”

“What can we do, then, to assist you?” said Avad.

“I’m still figuring that one out,” Aloy said, dejected. “I didn’t want to bring other people in my own mess, but now…” She sighed. “Now I’ve realized it’s all _our_ mess. The mess the Ancients left _us_ to sort out.”

“You thought right, I believe,” Avad replied. “I am honored that you’ve entrusted us with your findings. I’ll help in whatever capacity I can.”

Erend raised his mug; the water sloshed inside. “Yeah, me too! If you need someone to clobber things for you, I’m your man.”

A bit of color touched Aloy’s freckled cheeks. “That’s why I came to you guys. I knew I could count on you.”

This time, it was Erend who flushed; the man was grinning like a little boy. Avad stifled a chuckle. “What about the Nora?” he finally continued. “Hearing your story must have been quite a shock for them.”

Aloy coughed awkwardly. “I… didn’t have the chance to tell them. I decided to come back here directly after I was finished with my business in the Cut. I was thinking of heading to the Sacred Land afterwards, but…”

A warm, unknown feeling filled up Avad’s chest. She had come to him and Erend before going to her own people. Again, he felt unworthy of the trust she had placed in him. “I see,” Avad said. “I don’t envy your situation right now. Your account challenges many core tenets of the Nora religion, if I’m right.”

“The Matriarchs won’t take it lying down,” Erend said with a snort. “Hoary old shrews, the lot of ‘em…”

“They’ll have to,” Aloy said, scowling. “They can’t stay walled up in their little world forever, after all. They’ll have to start figuring out how to trust other tribes or else they’ll face worse than HADES all on their own.” Aloy held up one finger. “First lesson: don’t call your potential allies faithless heathens. It tends to get on their nerves.”

Erend put up his hands in the air, feigning shock. “But we are faithless heathens!”

His comment elicited a snort from Avad. Still, it was with full seriousness that the king added, “You might find it amusing, Erend, but for the Nora it is not laughing matter. The destruction wrought by HADES and his machines left them in a vulnerable position. It is certainly well within their interest to show a little caution when accepting the help of outsiders who have their own agendas to fulfill.” Avad swallowed nervously before adding, “Especially outsiders who practised slavery and human sacrifice not so long ago…”

Aloy shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I think there’ll be one Matriarch who’s gonna believe in your good intentions. As for the others… well, they’ll take a little more convincing, to say the least. It’ll be a steep hill to climb.”

“I know,” said Avad, “but it needs to be climbed. If not, the next time we come face-to-face with a threat as potent as HADES, it will certainly spell the end of us all.”

“The Braves who came to the Spire will see your point,” Aloy added. “Varl and Warchief Sona will be willing to speak on our behalf, I’m sure of it. We’ll figure it out, somehow.” A tired little smile played along the edges of her mouth. The expression was strangely out of place on her young face. It belonged to one much older and wearier, Avad realized with a pang. “Somehow...”

“Then, we must arrange a meeting,” said Avad. “I have to speak to the Matriarchs, beg their forgiveness if that’s what it takes.”

“Whoa, whoa!” said Erend. “Even if the Nora _do_ open up their borders, I don’t think you’d even be allowed anywhere near Mother’s Heart. Besides, I dunno if those bootlicking courtiers of yours would just let you waltz out of here while there’s still so much to do.”

“I’m aware of that, Erend. I will wait until I have the Matriarchs’ permission to enter the Sacred Land. It will take some time and effort, however, and this is why I would like to send another delegation as an act of goodwill. We can spare a few more provisions and workers, I believe.” Avad looked at Erend, rather fondly. “Of course, my ever-loyal Captain of the Vanguard will accompany this envoy to serve as protection.”

“I will?” Erend said, blinking owlishly.

 “It could help,” Aloy replied. “After all, the Nora have no bad blood with the Oseram. If they’re reminded that people of all walks of life are allowed to have a voice at your court, then they might be more willing to realize that you’re not just offering empty promises.”

“Then, it’s settled!” said Avad. “Erend, you and some of your men with accompany Aloy and a few of my best diplomats. You will leave as soon as you can. Once the first bridge has been built, I will meet the Matriarchs in their place of choice. In fact…” Avad glanced to the side, unable to meet Aloy’s gaze in his shame. “In fact, I should have reached out to your people sooner, Aloy. These past few months, I have done nothing but wallow in my own misery. I should have been quicker to act.”

“You were busy helping your own subjects,” Aloy replied. “It’s understandable. You’re only one man, there’s a limit to what you can do.”

“Yeah, she’s right,” added Erend. “Rebuilding Meridian was already one hell of a burden. Don’t get yourself too beaten up about it.”

Avad’s mouth formed a modest smile. “I’m grateful for your votes of confidence. I will certainly succeed in my endeavors, with people such as you two by my side.”

Erend offered a mock salute. “Anything for you, boss.” He then pointed behind him with his thumb. “A word in private, though?”

“Of course,” Avad replied. “Aloy, if you excuse us.”

The huntress nodded, turning her gaze away as Erend and Avad left the table. She began to play with the hem of her robe in an absentminded manner. Once they were out of earshot, Erend then turned to the king, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You want me to go with Aloy to the Nora lands?” he told Avad. “Wouldn’t it be better for me to stay here in Meridian? I mean, someone’s gotta make sure your skinny ass stay out of trouble, right?”

Avad could almost not believe his ears. Here he was, giving Erend the perfect occasion to go sightseeing in pleasant company, and yet the man was so caught up with his duty he could not even see the truth of Avad’s (very transparent) scheme.

“What?” said Erend, as a bewildered (and amused) Avad just stared at him. “Was it something I said?”

In response, Avad pulled the man into a hug, clapping his back in an entirely un-Carja manner. Erend stiffened, before gingerly returning the embrace. Aloy looked at them, one eyebrow raised.

“You drunk or something?” Erend muttered as Avad let him go. “It’s a bit early for that, y’know.”

“No, no,” Avad said. “You’re a good person, Erend Vanguardsman. I’m glad that we have met.”

“Uh…” Erend passed a hand through his hair. “Thanks, I guess?”

Avad only beamed at him in response. “Once you are gone,” he continued. “I’ll expect to hear from you soon. Remember to take care on your trip, my friend. Just… think of it as a sort of vacation.” Avad’s words were tinted with mischief as he spoke next. “I’m sure the Sacred Land is lovely at this time of the year.”

Erend nodded. “I’ll keep in touch, don’t worry, Your Radiance. Or whatever it is they call you.”

“Careful, there,” Avad said with good humor. “My hubris might grow unchecked if I start hearing you using the appropriate title.”

“Your Brightness it is, then,” Erend said.

Avad chuckled. Behind them, Aloy rolled her eyes in a good-natured manner.

“The two of you are dismissed,” Avad said. “Go on and get some rest. Aloy. Erend… well, I should let you prepare for the coming journey. Sadly, we’ll have to put our weekly chats on hold for now.”

“That means you can’t drink ‘til I come back,” Erend said. He was smiling, but his brows came together in the slightest of frowns. “I can have your word on this, right?”

Avad met Erend’s blue-grey eyes unflinchingly. A long stretch of days filled with nothing but alienating solitude awaited him in the near future—days where he would have to light a path for his people despite the pitch-black despair that seemed perpetually poised to engulf him. And of course without the deceitful comfort of alcohol he could look forward to more nightmares, to more sobs muffled into his pillow, to more hours spent thrashing in his bed as he remained unable to find sleep.

All of this Avad would have to face alone.

 _I don’t want to do it!_ he wanted to shout at Erend. _I can’t do it, I can’t!_ But Avad was the Sun-King of the Carja, the living embodiment of his people’s covenant with the divine. More importantly, he was simply a man who possessed the incomparable luck of sensing his heart thumping against his ribcage in a steady, reassuring manner. Avad was alive while countless others had suffered a crueler fate, and for this reason alone he could not allow himself to choose the easier path and become something that would have earned him Ersa’s scorn.

In the end, Avad only replied, “Of course, Erend. I’ll try.” He would have said, _I promise_ , but somehow that would have sounded like a lie.

Erend tapped Avad’s shoulder. “That’s good enough for me.”

In that simple assertion, Avad could hear, _I understand. I’m not judging you._ That was all he needed. That was more than he deserved. “Thank you, Erend. In the struggles ahead, let your resolve be as strong as steel.”

Erend grinned, genuinely this time. “Heh. May the Sun light your path, boss.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is just me writing a couple of conversations between these two dorks and trying to weave a story out of it. Don't mind me OTL


End file.
